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for a while. He sounded utterly weary. Jamie had heard that before, but from adults, not another kid.

Jamie held his plate, pinched between forefinger and thumb, as he shuffled over to the door. He leaned close to the opening so the others could hear better. "How many of us are in here?"

No one spoke. He waited for nearly twenty seconds before another voice, this one slightly deeper than the others he'd heard, finally answered.

"Eight, counting you two." The boy sounded like he might be Jamie's age, or maybe older. "I was the first one in here as far as I know. If there were any other boys down here, they're gone now. But I don't think there were. I was his first." The despondency in his voice cracked, and the words faded away.

Several seconds passed before he spoke again. "The second one came in a few days later. After that, he didn't bring anyone for a couple of weeks."

"That's when I got here," the second voice said. "I was the third."

Silence resumed.

"If there are eight of us, we have a chance," Jamie said confidently. "He's only one man."

"We don't have any weapons," the first argued. "And he's not going to give us any. You heard him. Our only chance is to run and hide. I have a feeling that won't help. He's probably an expert hunter or something. He'll track us down like wild animals."

Jamie stole a sidelong glance at his brother's reaction to the comment. Oliver's eyes suddenly filled with worry. The sausage on his plate no longer seemed appealing.

"We still have a chance if we stick together," Jamie said. "We have fifteen minutes to find a way out of this place."

"It's a hundred acres," the third interjected again. "There's no way we can cover that kind of ground in fifteen minutes."

"Neither can he."

"Unless he's using an ATV or something," the first said.

"True. That's a possibility."

"We should split up," another voice said. This one was new to the conversation. The speaker sounded different from the others in that his accent was different, probably from the northeast. New York City, if Jamie recalled correctly. He'd only been there once, but met several people from that area and to him, the distinct way they spoke stuck with him through the years.

"We could," Jamie agreed, partially. "But if we do that, he could hunt us down one by one. We're stronger together."

"So, what? He can kill us all in one go? I don't think so."

"I agree," the first said. "We have a better chance if we split up. Individually, we will be harder to track, especially if we all go in different directions. He may get one or two of us, but not all of us."

The sobering statement quieted the basement once more. Jamie hated to consider the notion that a few of them wouldn't make it out of here alive. They were right on one count, though, and he couldn't dispute that. If they moved as a herd, the boys would be easier to track—even for a novice hunter. He doubted this man was that.

"Fine," Jamie said. "We'll split up and go our separate ways."

He shook his head at the unspoken question in his brother's eyes. "Not us, Oli," Jamie mouthed. "We stick together. No matter what."

Eight

Brown’s Ferry

Dak found what he was looking for on the side of the road near the forest. He'd noticed it before when circling Nate's property, but wanted to inspect every inch before returning to the spot.

He spent the last hour driving around, looking for any signs of a security system along the perimeter. All he found was the old barbed wire fence that wrapped around the farm. Nate hadn't taken the time to update the fencing yet, if he ever planned on it. There were no cameras that Dak could see, but if there were, the devices would likely be camouflaged and hung in the trees. Dak had used similar hunting cameras before to track animals that came and went in the night.

Dak steered the SUV off the road into the pull-off and continued forward until the road vanished behind the thick rows of trees and undergrowth. He'd seen the old trail on his first pass and figured it would be a good place to park. No one would know he was there unless they were really looking. Dak bet that wouldn't happen.

He stopped the vehicle and killed the engine. Peering through the windshield, Dak continued to scour the flat woods in front of him. Then he turned his attention up the hill to his right. It climbed up over a ridge and descended into what he knew was Nate's property. Will supplied the information regarding the property lines and their current boundaries. With that, Dak knew almost down to a foot where Nate's land began and ended.

It was a good start, though Dak knew he had to work fast. He'd promised the McDowells he would find their boys. There was no way to make such a guarantee. For all he knew, the boys could already be dead, along with the other six that had disappeared in the region over the last few months.

He forced that thought out of his mind. The boys were alive. He didn't know why he felt that way, but it pumped through his veins with every heartbeat. He knew it was irrational. In most instances such as this, false hope was the most crushing thing a person could cling to. The devastation that resulted from bad news would feel like falling a thousand feet with a tragic and sudden stop at the bottom.

Dak let the comparison fade away as he opened the SUV's back door and slid his gear to the edge. He pulled a black, hardshell case next to it and flipped it open.

Inside, a drone with a carbon fiber frame and gray shell rested in the foam cushioning. A white, first person viewing (FPV) headset sat a few inches away. Dak wasted no time. He unzipped

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